He hadn’t thought of it, but he said: “Why
not? Best dog in the Yukon.”

“Well, how much?”

“How much’ll you give?”

“Dollar a day.”

“Done.”

So Nig was hired out, Spot was sold for twenty dollars,
and Red later for fifteen.

“Well,” said the Colonel when they went
in, “I didn’t know you were so smart.
But you can’t live here on Nig’s
seven dollars a week.”

The Boy shook his head. Their miserable canned
and salted fare cost about four dollars a day per
man.

“I’m goin’ to take Nig’s tip,”
he said—­“goin’ to work.”

Easier said than done. In their high rubber boots
they splashed about Rampart in the mild, thawing weather,
“tryin’ to scare up a job,” as one
of them stopped to explain to every likely person:
“Yes, sah, lookin’ for any sort of honourable
employment till the ice goes out.”

“Nothin’ doin’.”

“Everything’s at a standstill.”

“Just keepin’ body and soul together myself
till the boats come in.”

They splashed out to the gulch on the same errand.

Yes, wages were fifteen dollars a day when they were
busy. Just now they were waiting for the thorough
thaw.

“Should think it was pretty thorough without
any waitin’.”

Salaman shook his head. “Only in the town
and tundra. The frost holds on to the deep gulch
gravel like grim death. And the diggin’s
were already full of men ready to work for their keep-at
least, they say so,” Salaman added.

Not only in the great cities is human flesh and blood
held cheaper than that of the brutes. Even in
the off season, when dogs was down, Nig could get
his dollar a day, but his masters couldn’t get
fifty cents.

CHAPTER XVII

Men in the Gold Nugget were talking about some claims,
staked and recorded in due form, but on which the
statutory work had not been done.

“What about ’em?”

“They’re jumpable at midnight.”

French Charlie invited the Boy to go along, but neither
he nor the Colonel felt enthusiastic.

“They’re no good, those claims, except
to sell to some sucker, and we’re not in that
business yet, sah.”

They had just done twenty miles in slush and mire,
and their hearts were heavier than their heels.
No, they would go to bed while the others did the
jumpin’, and next day they would fill Keith’s
wood-bin.